A highly inappropriate rant about our First Nations community
I can’t believe I haven’t blogged this rant before, because I have it in my head, with myself all the time. I shared it with my therapist, who kindly assured me I am not unkind. Well, maybe I gave her a spinned-out version where I could be seen as kind.
The report about the death of Tina Fontaine came out today. The reporting said it triggered national outrage. Well I don’t know about that.
As the reporting came on (yes, I still listen to CBC radio), my mind did the blurry fogging over thing it does when a story has to do with First Nations.
My experience has been that First Nations people blame me (personally), for stealing their land. I am not sure when their land was stolen exactly, but I do know that I was born on a Caribbean Island, my parents were born there too; and I think the land stealing happened before then. So I don’t feel personally guilty and accountable, but I prefer not to engage in discussions with them, just in case it comes up, and I find myself in need of a lawyer.
My experience is of First Nations making it very very clear that they are different from us. Their culture is different, their experiences are different. I think we are supposed to learn about them (it is only polite, after all). But then if we put on a headdress, it is called cultural appropriation (this is bad), and we are shamed for being insensitive. Hence, I would rather not engage in their culture, in case I get it wrong. I don’t like being shamed.
My experience is of hearing First Nations leaders telling the rest of us we have got it wrong. What I hear, is, whatever we do, however much we give, it will never be right and it will never be enough. While I don’t think we deserve or are entitled to a thank you, trying to help and getting chastized in return at is a hard pill to swallow. I just won’t engage.
When Judy Wilson Raybould (Google that, what drama!) cast aspersions on the Canadian political system, I was amazed. First Nations politics are known for being scandalously corrupt, incestuous, and ineffective. When I ask my First Nations friends about this, they say the negative stereotype is beyond belief truer than true. I am tempted to say something here about the Judy W-R pot calling the kettle black, but am pretty sure I would be called racist.
Not engaging is easy. We create committees, hold national hearings, promote consultations, write reports, conduct audits, develop recommendations. And when we get to the end of the process, we hit repeat and start again. For the collective of Canadians, I think it is enough to allow us blur the camera lens on the issues (do you know the suicide rate in the North? Shocking. How can we blur that lens? And yet we do). We carry on with our days. Unperturbed.
I believe the First Nations posturing is driven by anger which is driven by desperation. Behind it all, I think they are saying, “we need help”.
But the cumulative effect of the “othering” they do to us, is for the ‘others’ like me, to say okay then. And our mind blurs, we tune them out, and carry on. There are lots of other people we can help in our community.
I wish the story could be about the tragic death of one of “our” children. I would never stand for that.
…my mind did the blurry fogging over thing it does when it has to do with First Nations.